


Tearing Instincts Apart

by thefoxandthealpha



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Connor meets Charlie, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, first awkward family moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefoxandthealpha/pseuds/thefoxandthealpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie tends to Bass' wounds when they get back from Mexico.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tearing Instincts Apart

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out way longer than I expected. First Charloe fic. Title inspired by the song 'Went to War' by Amason.

“Fucking- Charlie, come on!” Bass hissed as Charlie pressed the cloth against his wounds non too gently. She seemed to be enjoying this a bit too much. Which okay, he deserved, but at least when he patched her up he was nice about it.

Charlie fought a grin as she dipped the cloth in more alcohol. “You can take it,” she murmured but lightened her touch anyway, dabbing at the raw skin. Her eyes flit to the man standing at the doorway, watching them awkwardly. Monroe’s son apparently. “Who did this anyway?” They both flinch and she doesn’t push for an answer, not needing one.

The woman fixing his father up is made of tense muscle and scowls. Except for when Miles is around, then she has this little twist to her lips that makes her…prettier. No, not prettier, that was a bad word to describe it. But she wasn’t all tense with his father either. Connor wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she was causing Monroe pain that was delighting her or if she found his constant needless complaining amusing. Maybe it was the way that their bodies reacted off of one another like they’d been doing this for years. It didn’t take more than a minute of staring to notice it.

Bass slipped his shirt all the way off for Charlie once her hands begun to drift lower, hunching to allow her better access. She answered by shifting onto the bench behind him, straddling it and dipping to look at his wounds closer. Her lip caught between her teeth as she blotted at the torn tissue, even wincing when his muscles drew tighter. “Alright, alright relax. I’m almost done.” Connor noted the way her voice dropped to something soft and bordering on tender.

“Great, almost done. It’s only been an hour.” Bass’ words are a bite, turning his head to glare at her. But then he sees the look of concentration on her face and the slight tremble in her fingers. He’s staring for a moment, processing what that means before turning to face his son again. “You alright, kid? She’ll fix you up if you need.” He ignores the burn of Charlie’s disapproving glare for pimping out her first aid services. “Actually, I’d rather have Miles look at you inst- Ow!”

“I’m fine,” Connor says shortly.

Charlie gave Bass a sardonic smile when he looked back at her. “All done.” She pats the bandages covering the lashed skin and stands, walking to the basin to wash her blood soaked hands. “Where’s Mom and Miles, anyway?”

“Ah..” Bass tried not to groan from the pain as he put his shirt back on; he’d shown enough weakness around his boy. “Who knows? Off somewhere giving each other Eskimo kisses because they made it out alive?” He deserved the swat aimed at his head for that one and he doesn’t miss the smile fighting to stay off Charlie’s lips. “Connor,” he says suddenly, looking at his son. “Why don’t you go find something to eat?”

That was his cue that something akin to Eskimo kisses was about to occur here and he didn’t want to be any part of it. He raises both brows as he nods awkwardly, arms still crossed as he turns to head to the kitchen. Bass watches him go before looking up at Charlie who stares back, his hand goes hesitantly to hers. Entwines their fingers and rubs his thumb across the roughening skin at the back of her hand. Every day he saw her she was stronger. Rougher like she was casting out all the things that could allow her to get hurt.

She doesn’t pull away, if anything her fingers squeeze his. Her other hand raises to smooth his collar with her fingers still unsure and clumsy. He’d hate to see what his stitches looked like. “So that’s the son.” Her voice betrays nothing, empty. It was hard to reconcile the passionate voice of the girl who’d come to his doorstep, which felt like ages ago, with the one of the girl who stood beside him. In truth the two girls were not the same and they both knew they never would be again. “He’s… interesting.”

Charlie didn’t give a fuck who his son was and he knew that. She was only making distracting conversation and he was too damn tired for it. “Charlotte,” the tone of his voice makes her look back into his eyes, “I’m okay.” Her hand is yanked from his within a second and he lets it fall back limply against her thigh.

It’s that same voice; measured and slow like he’s not worth a word that comes from her mouth. “I don’t care.” She’s turning her back to him and continuing to clean up, her body tense like she’ll strike lest he move. And he doesn’t. He’s content to sit here in her presence.

Because she’s lying.

She’s lying with the way her eyes went wide when they returned home and the next face they sought after Miles’ was his. She’s lying with the way she looked for him at the end of every fight with something stuck in her throat and the sight of him is what eased it down. What eased her down until her limbs weren’t shotguns loaded and waiting for release. If she didn’t think he noticed, then she was as stupid as her mother was intelligent.

“I missed you too, Charlie,” he says gruffly as he stands to find Connor.

 _Snap._ Those limbs are around his neck and her taut torso is against his and he’s got an armful of _Charlotte_. He doesn’t protest at the harsh gnash of teeth against his mouth or the way her nails dig into his scalp. It was a gift that she wasn’t repulsed by his touch but curved into it. Followed the way his hands brought her hips to his and eased up her back flat palmed until there was not a space for breath between them.

Bass was there and he was safe and maybe that was all she needed him to be.

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted on my Charlie (Charloe) RP blog; thefreematheson. There are two more prompts to be filled soon.


End file.
